Kimberly Johnson

Ode On My Episiotomy

Forget pearls, lace-edged kerchiefs, roomy pleats—this is my most matronly adornment:stitches purling up the middle of meto shut my seam, the one that jagged gapedupon my fecund, unspeakable dark,my indecorum needled togetherwith torquemadan efficiency. But O! the dream of the dropped stitch! the loopholethrough which that unruly within might thread,